


One of His Few Treasures

by timothysboxers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional torment, Friends to Lovers, Goodbyes, Heartache, Hope, Lack of Communication, Letters, M/M, Sadness, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-29 00:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timothysboxers/pseuds/timothysboxers
Summary: Draco's feelings for Harry have always been intense. Hasn't it always been Harry; still now as much as it was then? However, the relationship he gets is not exactly what he envisaged; he's finding the reality of Harry Potter is very different to the dream.





	One of His Few Treasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmatheslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmatheslayer/gifts).



> HD Wireless 2018 Prompt 183: Too Good at Goodbyes - Sam Smith - prompted by [Emmatheslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmatheslayer/)
> 
> —
> 
> Thanks to those without whom this would not, and probably should not, exist:  
>  [MaesterChill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maesterchill/), [Erin_Riwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erin_riwen/), and [kedavranox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedavranox/)
> 
> —

Draco sat at his writing desk in his private study; quill in hand, fresh parchment before him, and a decanter and glass of Firewhiskey to the side. Truth be known: he hated writing. Truth be known: this needed to be written.

Exhaling, he dipped the nib into the ink pot, and began.

—

> 19 June 2003
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Dearest Harry,
> 
>  
> 
> I realise that this won't be easy for you, and I will concede now that we should probably have had this as a conversation; though how I could ever facilitate it is beyond my comprehension.
> 
> I know you must think that I'm stupid; a fool even. Though I've written this same letter many times, this will be the first time I've sent it to you.
> 
> It's ridiculous the number of times you've brought me to tears, and it still astounds me how you manage it. I thought I was stronger than that.

—

"Pot-ter," Draco called in a playful sing-song voice across the lawn by the Great Lake. He was enjoying the friendship that had developed between him and Harry through the last six months of their 8th year at Hogwarts.

They had spent a lot of time being angry with each other, being hateful and holding on to old wounds. It wasn't until Draco had chanced upon Harry, well he was still _Potter_ then, drinking Firewhiskey under a tree at the edge of the forbidden forest late in the evening, while he was out on a walk to clear his own head.

Instead of the hostility he expected, Potter smiled a lonely smile and silently conjured him a glass, poured him a very generous nip and patted the ground beside him. Potter never broke eye contact with him.

Draco complied; how could he refuse? Potter looked like he could use the company, and they sat in silent reflection together. They didn't speak a word that night, or the following, or the one following that. Though they did eventually speak; lighthearted at first. Then deeper, and deeper still until they had both shared their moments, breaking down years old barriers between them and patching their wounds. Apologising for old wrongs.

Harry looked up, a goofy grin spreading across his face as Draco sauntered toward him. "Mal-foy," he returned in the same sing-song voice. "All prepped and ready for graduation tomorrow?"

"Without a doubt," he stated plainly, "I've got the _Best in Year_ pin shined and primed, ready- oof!"

A pair of arms grabbed him around his chest, cutting him off. "Ready for me, I hope!" an excited female voice called from behind him.

"Unhand me, Granger," Draco feigned irritation, and once she complied, he smoothed out phantom wrinkles from his robes as Ron, Harry and Hermione laughed. "You might be disappointed yet."

"Doubtful, Malfoy," Hermione stuck her tongue out at him playfully. Draco was surprised just how much the last two-thirds of the _Golden Trio_ had warmed to him since he started spending more time with Harry.

"Yeah," Ron snickered, "She's not just a pretty face, you know."

"Yes, Weasley, I know," Draco rolled his eyes, "In spite of the fact that I have eyes of my own, you insist on telling _anyone_ who will listen."

"Still true though," Ron stated adamantly. "You're just jealous she's all mine!"

Hermione snorted, "Enough, Ronald," she chided. "Draco, Harry, has Ron told you that Molly wants you two to stay at the Burrow the night before your trip? Wants to have a proper send off."

' _Trip_?' Draco wondered, ' _What trip_!'

Harry's silence, Weasley's wooden-doll body language and Granger's face full of ' _oh shit I fucked up_ ' told him everything he needed to know: Harry was leaving, and he wasn't invited.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Hermione said quickly. "I thought you were going together?"

"Oh, no, I'm going alone," Harry said, too casually.

Draco was dumbstruck. Harry had never mentioned this trip to him, though it was clear that everyone else knew, and he had been planning it for months.

"You alright Draco?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, uh, fine, yeah," Draco nodded vigorously in response, pretending that his heart had _not_ just smashed into a billion miniscule pieces inside his chest and was currently leaking out of his feet. "Just remembered something I forgot I promised Pansy I'd do. Later!"

As he left, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his robes, feeling the slender wooden box there. He felt colour rise on his neck as a wave of embarrassment crashed over him.

—

> You mean so much to me, Harry, though I doubt you truly realise it. I want so badly to be close to you, but every time I try to open my heart to you the pain of remembering the first time scares me; it still hurts too much.
> 
> I'm sure it hurts you too. I know we've had our shares of good and bad, but I can't shake this feeling that, one day, you're really just going to leave me for dust. For good.
> 
> You've told me you need _breathing space_ , or _room to grow_ ; that _your work needs you to travel, so we should take a break, just until you get back_. I'll agree that I've allowed it, but it doesn't mean it hurt me any less every time I saw you go.

—

Harry had been away now for the better part of a year since their graduation from Hogwarts. Draco hadn't seen him, or heard from him once during that time. As much as he thought it was tokenistic, he kept up contact with Weasley and Granger after graduation anyway.

From them he learned that Harry had been all over the world, immersing himself in every culture he could find. They received the occasional postcard; covered in his telltale chicken scratch penmanship and always dated around a month prior with no hint of where he was headed to next.

Draco had remained in London, but it just seemed empty, and everything reminded him of Harry. Not that he ever told anyone that. Eventually, his mother sent him off into the wilderness, on his own 'holiday', in a bid to clear his head and shake this 'post graduation sadness' he seemed to have acquired.

When he had seen Harry in a cafe in Italy, Draco was convinced he was hallucinating as he watched his smiling form across the room, casually dumping sugar into an undersized cup. Unexpectedly, they made eye contact and the world stood still as Draco saw the momentary ghost of deep-rooted fear flash across Harry's features.

Despite the obvious awkwardness, Harry still made his way over to Draco. The conversation consisted of clipped small-talk about travel destinations, post-graduation activities and career opportunities; nothing like the familiarity and ease they had enjoyed at Hogwarts. Even still, Draco found himself agreeing to meet Harry the following day before he realised he'd said the words.

After several coffees and a few lunches, their conversation became more relaxed. After dinner and an evening or two with wine on the terrace of the Malfoy Villa overlooking the City of Naples, they found themselves back on familiar, comfortable ground.

It helped that Draco was more familiar with Italy than Harry and he seized the opportunity to take some short trips with him; The City of Pompeii, and the _Castello di Arechi_ and _Giardino della Minerva_ in Salerno. Ancient ruins seemed to fascinate Harry.

Draco could scarcely remember a happier day than when he'd convinced Harry to remain in Italy for an extra week. Nearing the end of that extra week, while they were sharing a packed lunch atop _Monte Solaro_ on the Isle of Capri, Draco finally plucked up enough courage to offer Harry open-ended accommodation in the Villa with him.

Harry had seemed reluctant at first, though he stayed. 'Separate bedrooms' was his only requirement.

Weeks later, one night found them rather drunk on the terrace, sitting side by side on the bench seat watching the clouds ghost across the moon. An old gramophone played crackly ballads, the candles danced in their glass jars, and Harry's hand brushed against his.

Then it brushed his again, and Draco brushed back, allowing Harry's fingers then to curl around his, pressing their palms together. Draco's breath caught in his throat as Harry leaned his shoulder into his own. Harry took another sip of wine, setting the glass down roughly beside him.

Draco stole a glance, and was stunned breathless by the sight that greeted him. Jet black glasses framing piercing green rings around lust blown pupils. A lopsided sultry smile on full burgundy lips. Messy black hair with blue and yellow highlights from the moon and the candles alike. Utterly perfect. Draco smiled.

Harry's free hand reached up and cupped his cheek, his thumb stroking a blazing streak across the cheekbone. Draco felt his body respond to the touch. His eyelids fluttered and his heart raced.

Harry drew Draco's face nearer his own, letting his hand fall to Draco's shoulder. Their lips were a mere galleon’s breadth apart as he felt the ghosts of Harry's breaths on his lips. His head tilted one way, and Harry's the other; their lips met and tongues danced together, tasting new and unknown flavours. Hands explored and roved on thighs, obliques, chests, and in hair; squeezing, tickling, stroking and tugging. Voices were reduced to muffled gasps and soft moans.

They eventually broke for air with swollen lips and tightened pants. Unspeaking, they kissed and stumbled their way to a bedroom, littering a trail of discarded clothing in their wake.

Harry, adorned by nothing more than a pair of navy boxer-briefs, gently pushed Draco onto the bed. Draco reclined, compliant and craving Harry's touch. Harry surveyed him momentarily, Draco knew his own his chest was bathed in moonlight, cool and silver. Harry then leaned in and trailed his fingers across Draco's torso on pale, well worn paths.

Draco met his eyes, put his hand on Harry's and moved it over his own heart. Harry smiled at him, and adjusted his position, gently splaying Draco's legs apart, settling himself between them, lowering his body onto Draco's, and claiming Draco's mouth again. Draco felt Harry's hardness pressing into his own through the fabric of their underwear.

Draco gave himself to his deepest desires and to Harry that night; allowing Harry unrestricted access to everything he had.

—

> The worst part about this whole situation, the most fucked up thing: through every one of these letters I've written you, I've cried less each time. My tear stains on the parchment dry quicker and they are fewer.
> 
> Every time you leave, get yourself some space, I feel like I love you less, and I can't help but believe that we truly don't stand a chance together any more. I will not be just a convenience for you, while you are my choice. My only choice.

—

Draco stared into the bottom of his coffee cup. Harry was about to leave, again, and he had no real idea when he would be back. They sat across from one another outside a small cafe on Diagon Alley. Harry had a portkey to catch, international: location undisclosed. One of the _joys_ of being an Auror and Curse-Breaker, he supposed.

It was easy enough for Draco to deal with the local assignments; an overnight job here or there, maybe a week or so at most. Sometimes they had even made a cute holiday out of it: a stolen weekend in a random town or city.

For a solid year since that night in Italy, things had been perfect; until Harry started picking up work with the Unspeakables. Naturally, Draco was incredibly proud of him, being the youngest Wizard ever to work so closely with the Department of Mysteries as an Auror-cum-Curse-Breaker. The jobs were still local, but they were now classified, meaning Draco was no longer able to tag along with Harry. And it meant a lot of goodbyes. A lot of times where Draco didn't know if he would ever see Harry again. Weeks away turned into two, three, a month.

This, however, was absolute lunacy. Harry had broken protocol slightly, showing Draco the parchment himself. Not that it said anything he could take comfort in.

Location: _Undisclosed._  
Duration: _Open-ended.  
_ Urgency: _Immediate._

All it really meant to Draco was that Harry was leaving again. Going somewhere he couldn't find him, or join him. And leaving immediately; they had just three days notice.

Draco was a million miles away, in disbelief that they were saying 'goodbye' again. Disbelief at the reality that this, again, may be the last time he ever saw Harry. All over again he was riding this familiar rollercoaster and hating every minute.

"Keep something of mine," Harry said, looking at his hands, voice betraying his confident appearance. "One of my few treasures. That way I'll have to come back. I know you'll keep it safe for me." He drew his wand and conjured a fine woven cord. Draco watched as it fell into a messy pile on the table between them.

Harry removed the ring from his left index finger, and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly. He then threaded it onto the cord.

"This belonged to Sirius," he stated, meeting Draco's eyes. "Black onyx with a ruby inlay. Onyx for emotional and physical strength in times of stress and confusion, and Ruby for emotional balance and love. It might sound stupid, but I believe it helped me through the ... well, you know. It means a lot to me."

Draco said nothing as Harry stood, walking around the small table to stand beside him. "May I?" he asked quietly, and Draco nodded, finding himself unable to speak.

Harry looped the cord around Draco's neck, fastening it at the nape so the ring hung at Draco's sternum. Pressing his lips to Draco's cheek, he whispered, "Keep it safe, I promise I'll be back as soon as I can be. My portkey is in 20 minutes. I lo-, I'll see you soon."

Draco stood up, turning to face him, pulling him into a tight embrace, weaving his hands around Harry's waist, pressing their bodies close together. He placed a small kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth, sighing at the familiar taste of him. Savouring his smell, basking in his warmth. Willing his body to show Harry how much he loved him; but then it was taken away.

Harry gently extracted himself from his arms, smiling tenderly, "Goodbye, Draco."

Draco released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding as he watched, through teary eyes, Harry's form disappearing into the crowd in Diagon Alley.

—

> I know that I cannot control what you're thinking, though I imagine you probably think I'm heartless, cold even, for sending you this (I usually burn them). But I can't do this face to face. I know you'd never let me finish and I have to protect myself; my soul.
> 
> I don't for a second believe you'd deliberately hurt me, even through all of this, you've never been cruel or callous; just clueless, maybe careless.

—

"When did you say you got back from Canada, Potter?" Draco questioned.

"Two months ago," Harry replied softly.

" _Seven months_ you were gone, Potter," Draco yelled, slamming his tumbler of firewhiskey down on the table. "SEVEN! And now you tell me that you've been back in London for _two whole months_?"

Harry stared at him, and Draco watched something flit behind his eyes. His mouth opened and closed several times as if he wanted to speak, but couldn't.

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "Fuck you, Potter. Fuck you. FUCK! _YOU!_ " Draco's voice cracked under the strain of trying to keep his composure. He slammed back the remaining contents of his firewhiskey and tossed the tumbler onto the table as he walked toward Harry. He watched Harry's eyes widen as the glass smashed on the floor.

Draco's arms snaked up around his neck, finding the thin cord knotted at his nape. He followed it forward and yanked it upward drawing the attached ring out from under his shirt, bundling the cord around his fingers.

"You said you'd be back, and you gave me this," Draco shook his fist and the ring toward Harry, "to keep safe for you. I had _hoped_ that you would come back for me, for _us_ ; and that this- _THIS_ was your way of telling me that."

They stood facing each other, standing close enough that Draco could feel the heat radiating off Harry's body.

"I’ve never once taken it off," Draco's voice fell quiet. He stared into Harry's bright green eyes, hoping to find even a tiny piece of his own feelings reflected there. He dropped his hands to his sides, letting the ring fall to hang against his chest.

Harry reached out to him, and pulled him into an embrace, pressing their bodies together, flooding Draco with warmth. "I thought about you so much," he whispered into Draco's ear. "Every day I wanted to be here with you, instead of over there alone."

Draco stiffened, "But two months! Really-"

"Protocol," Harry cut him off. "After international curse breaking especially. Foreign Magic can leave a lot of residual effects, and-"

" _Protocol_ is two weeks, Potter," Draco snapped, stepping out of Harry's embrace to face him again. Harry reluctantly released him, "Granger told me."

Harry blanched, and Draco noticed immediately. "Just be honest, Potter."

Harry sniffed, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't- didn't know how to tell you- to tell you I was home," He stumbled on his words.

"So I'm not worth an owl, or a fucking fire call?" Draco spat, "I have to find out from the fucking _Daily_ _Prophet_ that you've returned home with another successful mission under your belt, and I have to owl _Granger_ to see if the shit printed in the papers is actually true, when you don't reply to me!"

Harry stared at the floor, trembling.

Draco growled loudly in exasperation, "Seeing as its _one of your few treasures_ in life," Draco grabbed the ring sitting against his chest, letting the cord rest on his thumb. He ran his hand up the string, ducking his head out of the loop, "I think you'd better have this back." He gently pushed the cord and ring into Harry's hand.

Harry's eyes widened, and his breathing came short and rapid. His fingers curled around the ring, and his eyes closed as he took a deep, deliberate breath. His delicate red lips quivered as he exhaled.

Draco leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder as he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. He withdrew, stepping back, as tears in his own eyes threatened to break free of their prisons. Draco walked to the front door of Harry's flat, stealing one last glance back at Harry: Harry, who hadn't moved.

—

> I cannot deny that I still do now, and likely always will, have feelings for you. I just cannot allow them to be stirred or control my actions any longer.
> 
> You have to understand, Harry, that there are things that I am terrible at, and things I'm alright at, and things I'm good at.
> 
> And, it is with profound sorrow that I realise: I'm way too good at goodbyes.
> 
> Always and forever,
> 
>  
> 
> Draco Malfoy

—

As Draco signed his name, the first tears fell. Silver as his eyes, landing on the parchment, causing the fresh ink of his name to streak and bleed. He smiled, bittersweet, as he fanned it dry with his hand, allowing the rest of the tears to run uninhibited down his cheeks as he folded and sealed it.

A tapping at his window brought him out of his thoughts. As he looked up, there was an owl fluttering at the glass, a missive in its beak.

Draco sniffed, "Of course it's Potter's owl," he said aloud, walking towards the window. He opened it, and the owl dropped the letter onto his palm and perched itself on the sill as if waiting for a reply. Draco sniffed again and dabbed his eyes with the hem of his shirt.

Opening the letter, he was surprised to see Harry's ring stuck to the parchment with a sticking charm. As he read the note, more tears erupted from his eyes, and his body threatened to give way to the torrents of emotion he was trying to suppress.

Harry was asking for his forgiveness. Draco knew he meant it; he _always_ meant it. Why in Merlin's name Harry couldn't have said any of it last time they were together was beyond his comprehension— _he just stood there, frozen, broken—_ surely Harry knew that Draco would do anything for him. If he'd only been bloody honest about what was going on, maybe, just _maybe_ some of this pain could have been spared.

He stood there, facing the window and Potter's owl, which had its head cocked to the side; something he surmised it learned from the man himself. He held a letter in each hand; his head and heart warring over what he would give to the owl in reply.

**Fin**


End file.
